But then we reacha room that doesn’t look like it’s waiting for her touch.
This one isn’t staged. It’s lived-in, personal—careful in a way the rest of the house isn’t. On the wall hangs one of her old sorority banners, the letters hand-painted, a little faded. Her Hayward sweatshirt, folded neatly on a chair. A stack of vinyl records, a framed photo from a college game, dozens of KET tees and hoodies hang in an open closet. On the opposite side, another rack is filled with his college hockey merch.
She moves closer, fingers trembling as she traces the edge of her old banner. Tears fill her eyes, and she turns to me, and I hug her. “This isn’t just a house. It’s a promise. He built this place on faith. Bought it before he even knew you were coming back to him. Filled it with your history.” I stepped back just a tiny bit, cup her face, and wipe away her tears. “And those bedrooms, he wants to fill them with your future.”
“Then let's put on our letters,” she sniffs. “So, I can show him I am so fucking down.” She shakes her head, “You’re OK with this, right? I mean, I don't want to leave you or Savannah, I just got you,” she laughs. “I know that sounds crazy, but I really feel that way, like you’re a sister, and not in theonly until we're donewith college sororitykind of way. The forever kind. I honestly could not have done this without you.”
“By me, you do mean the Savannah snuggles?” I joke because I know better; she and I have a connection, too.
“That's just the bonus,” she hugs me now, and we both begin to cry.
When we getinto Sofie’s waiting car, the first thing that comes out of her mouth is, “Nothing screams ‘I got thoroughly pucked last night’ like Nalani Kane right freaking now.”
I give her hand a squeeze, and she gives it back.
“Oh no, you don’t get to leave us out of the loop,” Noelle says. “Sisters share.”
“He asked you to move in, and you sent a video of the KET and Hayward room. He even asked Claudia and Savannah to move in. If anyone should be pouting, it’s me.” Sofie laughs.
“Us,” Noelle corrects.
“Right.” Sofie wraps her arm around Nalani and winks at me.
“There’s more,” I sigh.
“There’s asbestos in Paul’s building, and in order to make any significant updates, Paul would need to move out for a bit, and he’s refusing to,” Nalani tells them.
“What? How do you know this?” Sofie asks.
“Yesterday, Deacon and Dash asked him if they could remodel one of the floors and showed him some sort of plan they had. Paul was all in; excited for it, actually. Deacon had an inspector look at it today while we were at the?—”
“Puck Pad,” I force a joke, trying to remain the friend Nalani deserves right now, when internally I am freaking out that Deacon Moretti is hell bent on … something.
Nalani continues, “Thankfully, we were already drinking bottled water because there are concerns there, too. It’s being tested.”
“So, it’s a health concern,” Sofie huffs. “What the fuck is it that screamsdrink mewhen alpha-puckholes see a sign that says,don’t drink the water?”
“Alpha-puckholes?” Noelle laughs, and yes, the rest of us do, too.
“Tell them about your new place,” I encourage.
And she does, all the way to the arena.
The car pulls over and comes to a stop.
Sofie throws open the door and announces, “And here we are, at the puckhole capital of the world.”
“She never has a nice thing to say, does she?” comes from outside the car.
“Paul?” Nalani and I both say at the same time.
“My niceties are reserved for people who aren’t quitters,” Sofie huffs.
When we finally get visual confirmation. I see Paul is standing next to… Deacon, who’s holding his cane.
“You came!” Nalani hugs him.
“Yeah, kid, not like I had a choice.” He throws his thumb over his shoulder at Deacon. “The Italian convinced me maybe I should.”
